


Target Practice

by telperion_15



Category: Primeval
Genre: Bets, Competition, Forfeits, M/M, Plot What Plot, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Shooting Range
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 22:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen and Anders get a bit competitive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Target Practice

**Author's Note:**

> A note about OCs:  
> Primeval fandom on LiveJournal has generated a number of fanon OCs, created by different authors and freely used by others, to the extent that some of them have now taken on lives of their own. The ones that appear in this fic, Anders, Jacobs and Carter, belong to me.

Stephen pulled the trigger five times in quick succession, feeling the rifle buck against his shoulder, its loud report muffled by the ear protectors he was wearing. Then he lowered the weapon and took off the protectors, calling out “Clear!” as he did so, although he knew he was alone in the shooting range.  
  
Hitting the button on the wall next to him, he watched the as the paper target flew towards him on its ceiling tracks. As it came to halt in front of him, fluttering slightly in the draft it had created, he eyed it critically. All the shots had found the head area, and if they weren’t clustered together as tightly in the centre as he might have wished, at least there was no doubt about his accuracy.  
  
A slow handclap started up behind him suddenly, and Stephen swung round to find Lieutenant Jason Anders lounging against the wall at the back of the range, eyes fixed on him.  
  
“Not bad, Hart,” Anders commented. “For a civilian.”  
  
Stephen felt himself bristling. Anders had made it no secret that he considered himself the crack shot of all the soldiers working on the anomaly project, a status that even Captain Jacobs had confirmed – although in the same breath he’d asked that no one mention this endorsement to his lieutenant, as he didn’t want Anders becoming “even more of a cocky git” than he already was.  
  
And now it seemed that Anders wasn’t content merely with out-shooting the military contingent.  
  
“In line for the Olympics, weren’t you?” Anders continued. “I seem to remember someone telling me that you were a gold medal prospect for Sydney.” His tone clearly communicated his disbelief of that idea.  
  
“That’s right,” Stephen replied guardedly.  
  
“So what happened? Didn’t want to prove everyone wrong, I suppose,” Anders sneered.  
  
“Not at all,” said Stephen, knowing he should just ignore the soldier’s insinuations, but not able to let it pass. “I just realised there were more important things in life.”  
  
“Like saving the world?”  
  
Stephen nodded. “Exactly.”  
  
Anders looked slightly disconcerted at that, but not for long. His eyes moved to the paper target as he went back on the attack. “Still practicing, though, I see.”  
  
“I don’t like to let my skills go completely to waste. And you can’t deny that they’ve come in useful on the project.”  
  
“You want to be careful, you know,” Anders said suddenly. “People might feel that you’re treading on their toes.”  
  
“People like you, you mean?”  
  
“You should leave the military’s business to the military,” Anders replied rudely. “That’s what we’re here for, after all.”  
  
“I don’t think Captain Jacobs sees it like that,” said Stephen. “Or Cutter. Or Lester. They all seem to think it's quite helpful to have a civilian who knows one end of a gun from the other.”  
  
Anders shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.” It was obvious he thought exactly the opposite.  
  
Stephen narrowed his eyes. “Look, did you have any other reason for coming here other than to _attempt_ to wind me up?”  
  
Anders gave him a look. “I came here to practice, same as you.”  
  
“Fine. Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to continue with my own practice, and I’ll leave you to get on with yours.”  
  
“Just practicing is boring, though.” Anders pushed himself away from wall and walked closer to Stephen. “Care to make things more interesting?”  
  
Stephen knew he should just leave. He could practice another time. The last thing he needed was to get drawn into some stupid macho game that probably wouldn’t prove anything.  
  
“What did you have in mind?” he said instead.  
  
“How about a little competition? See if those medal-winning skills match up to mine.”  
  
“And the winner gets…?”  
  
Anders smiled. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant smile. “The winner gets to pick a forfeit that the loser has to complete.”  
  
He _really_ needed to leave. This wasn’t going to end well, Stephen just knew. But he couldn’t bring himself to back down. “Fine,” he said shortly. “You’re on.”  
  
Anders nodded once, something like triumph already gleaming in his eyes, and then went to collect his own weapon and set of ear protectors. Stephen hung a new target from its bracket, sent it scudding back down the tracks to other end of the range, and then waited until Anders came back.  
  
“Shall we toss a coin to see who goes first?” he said, and Anders nodded agreement.  
  
Stephen lost the toss, which meant that Anders got to go first. They lined up in adjacent booths, and Stephen fixed his eyes of Anders’ target as the soldier took aim.  
  
Even before the target came zooming back towards them, he could tell that Anders had done well. The holes in the paper were close together, centred in the head area just as Stephen’s previous set had been.  
  
“Your turn,” Anders said, grinning. “Take your time.”  
  
Ignoring the mocking tone in the soldier’s voice, Stephen did as he was told, making sure he had his stance correct, that he was comfortable, that he had a decent line of sight to his target, and a hundred other little things before he took his shots.  
  
The results were good, but not quite good enough.  
  
“Oh, now, that’s a shame,” Anders said, sounding not in the least sympathetic. “Tell you what – how about we go best of five? Give you another chance?”  
  
“All right,” replied Stephen, eager for the opportunity to even the score. “Let’s go.”  
  
“But wait a minute,” said Anders. “Don’t forget the forfeit.”  
  
“But we don’t know who’s won yet,” Stephen argued.  
  
“But I won _that_ round,” Anders pointed out. “So that means you get a forfeit. And it’s occurring to me that I’ve left my watch in the locker room upstairs. Could you go and get it for me, please.”  
  
“Is that it?” Stephen laughed quickly. “Not got much imagination, have you?”  
  
He started towards the door of the shooting range, only to stop again when he noticed Anders shaking his head.  
  
“Uh uh, Hart. You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” He looked Stephen up and down. “I think you’re a little bit overdressed for what I had in mind.”  
  
Stephen’s eyes widened. “Oh, you’re _joking_.”  
  
“Nope. Get ‘em off. Only boxers allowed, Hart.”  
  
Stephen thought about refusing for a moment, but then narrowed his eyes. “Fine,” snapped, and swiftly stripped off all his clothes except his underwear. “Where exactly is the watch?”  
  
“On the bench next to my locker, I believe.”  
  
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”  
  
It took him less than five minutes to jog up to the locker room, locate the watch and bring it back. He’d mostly got away with not being seen, although one of the botanists had got an eyeful as he’d passed the labs, and he thought he’d spied Jenny at the other end of a corridor, although he’d ducked around a corner too quickly to be sure.  
  
“Here.” Stephen tossed the watch to Anders, and started putting his clothes back on.  
  
“Thank you very much,” said Anders. “Time for round two, I think?”  
  
Stephen didn’t replied, just picked up his gun and ear protectors.  
  
But the second round went much more his way, and at the end of it, it was Anders who was looking put out, and Stephen who was having fun thinking up a forfeit.  
  
“You know,” he said slowly, “I don’t think you show enough respect to your captain. And in order to make up for that, I think a bit of grovelling might be in order. A bit of boot-licking perhaps?”  
  
Anders scowled, but then muttered, “Fine,” and turned swiftly on his heel, exiting the shooting range quickly as Stephen had done twenty minutes earlier. Stephen hurried along behind, following him as he searched for Captain Jacobs. He wasn’t going to miss this for anything.  
  
And indeed, the look on Jacobs’ face when Anders walked into the rec room and immediately sank to his knees in front of him, his forehead almost touching the toes of the captain’s boots, was priceless. Hovering in the doorway, Stephen gleefully observed Anders’ grovelling with great delight. Then he flicked his gaze back up to Jacobs’ face in time to see the confused expression on Jacobs’ face give way to exasperated amusement as he stepped back, away from the kneeling Anders.  
  
“What exactly do you think you’re doing, Lieutenant?” Jacobs asked.  
  
“Just showing my respect, sir,” Anders mumbled from his position on the floor.  
  
“Well, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture, but I think that’s quite enough of that, don’t you?”  
  
“Yes, sir.” Anders rose to his feet, his face red. He seemed to be having trouble meeting Jacobs’ eyes.  
  
Jacobs noticed Stephen standing in the doorway. “Is this something to do with you, Hart?” he asked. “Have you taken it upon yourself to teach my lads some manners?”  
  
For a second, Stephen thought he was about to get a bollocking, but then Jacobs rolled his eyes and made a shooing gesture.  
  
“You know what, I don’t think I want to know. Get out of my sight, both of you.”  
  
They went, heading back down to the shooting range.  
  
“Ready for another round?” Stephen said brightly.  
  
Anders glared at him, but nonetheless picked up his gun. However, his obvious anger at his previous forfeit spoiled his aim, and the third round went to Stephen again.  
  
“Hmmm, now let me see…” Stephen mused aloud. “What can I come up with this time?” He was starting to enjoy himself.  
  
And, as it turned out, Jacobs’ reaction to Anders’ previous forfeit was nothing to the expression of complete and utter shock on Simon Carter’s face when Anders found him in the armoury, grabbed him, and planted a smacking kiss on his lips.  
  
“What the…?” But the corporal didn’t get a chance to finish his question, as Anders was gone as quickly as he’d arrived, with Stephen following after him and laughing so hard he thought he’d burst.  
  
But when they returned once again to the shooting range, he started to wonder whether he was going to have cause to regret what had seemed like a brilliant idea when he’d thought it up.  
  
Stephen could recognise that Anders ire seemed to have cooled from something hot to something ice cold. Something that he could actually use. Therefore Stephen wasn’t particularly surprised when the soldier completely trounced him in the next round of their match. But when he saw the look in Anders eyes as they took off their ear protectors, he suddenly knew he was in deep, _deep_ trouble.  
  
Revenge was most definitely on the cards.  
  
“I think I’d like to see you on your knees now, Hart,” Anders said. “You’ve seen me on mine, so it’s only fair. Turn and turn about, as they say.”  
  
Stephen sighed, wondering who the soldier was going to drag into their little game to humiliate him. He supposed it would be naïve of him to say that he hadn’t seen this coming.  
  
But then Anders beckoned to him. Stephen went warily, on his guard. Something was different here.  
  
There was a moment’s pause, and then Anders cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well, Hart? What are you waiting for?” He looked down pointedly, and Stephen’s eyes followed – right to the large bulge in the front of Anders’ BDUs.  
  
“ _What?_ No way!”  
  
“Backing out, are we, Hart?” Anders’ voice was silky with triumph.  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
“You wish.”  
  
“I’m not going to do it.”  
  
“Really? Because from what I’ve heard, you’re normally only too happy…”  
  
Stephen gaped at him. Someone had obviously been spreading rumours, and nasty ones at that. But he wasn’t going to give Anders the satisfaction of demanding who it was. That would only give the soldier more ammunition.  
  
“Come on, Hart.” Anders was unfastening his trousers, sure of success despite Stephen’s protestations. And to his horror, Stephen realised that he himself was half-hard inside his jeans, flowing adrenaline and testosterone conspiring to make his body betray him.  
  
Of course, Anders noticed. “See? I knew you weren’t completely unwilling.” Anders had pushed his BDUs down far enough that he could take his cock loosely in hand. Stephen’s eyes were drawn inexorably towards it, and he felt his own cock twitch in response.  
  
“You know you want to,” Anders said. “And do you really want everyone to know that you couldn’t play the game?”  
  
Stephen sincerely doubted that the lieutenant would be spreading word of any of this around the rest of the team, and even if he did, he reckoned that not many people would care that he hadn’t been ‘man enough’ to suck Anders’ cock. And yet, despite all that, he found himself moving back towards Anders.  
  
“Fine,” he said shortly, and then he was going down on his knees and taking Anders’ cock in his mouth.  
  
“Yeah, come on,” Anders encouraged, and then, “Fuck, look at that pretty mouth of yours.”  
  
Right then, Stephen decided he was going to wreak his own form of revenge, albeit a more subtle one. Anders was pushing forward already, trying to fuck Stephen’s mouth, but placing his hands on Anders’ hips, Stephen forced them back against the wall, keeping the other man still as he went to work. After all, the soldier hadn’t been completely wrong when he’d said that Stephen liked sucking cock, and Stephen felt it was only fair that he prove just _how_ good he was at it.  
  
Anders’ taunts and crude encouragements suddenly went quiet, to be replaced by moans and cursing as Stephen licked and sucked at his cock, alternately teasing at the head and slit, and sliding down until nearly the whole length had passed his lips.  
  
 _Take that_ , he thought triumphantly, as Anders breathed out one final, “Fuck, yes…” and came hard, filling Stephen’s mouth with bitter fluid that he quickly swallowed, trying not to lose any.  
  
There were a few moments of silence as Stephen sat back on his heels, wiping his hand across his mouth, and Anders panted harshly above him, getting his breath back.  
  
“The rumours are definitely true then,” the soldier said eventually, although for once he didn’t sound like he was trying to insult Stephen. In fact, he almost sounded like he was attempting some friendly teasing. Although most people would probably be feeling pretty friendly after a blowjob like that, Stephen reflected.  
  
He rose to his feet, very aware that his own cock was still demanding attention, and wondering what the chances were of persuading Anders to call it a draw so he could escape and take care of himself.  
  
“So, last round, then?” Anders said. “Still everything to play for, you know.”  
  
No chance at all, it seemed.  
  
“Yeah, all right,” replied Stephen grudgingly.  
  
Neither of them put on a particularly spectacular show in the fifth and final round of their competition – Stephen because he was still half tempted to throw down his gun and bolt for the gents loos, and Anders because he was still obviously being affected by the post-coital glow. But when they examined the two targets, Stephen, much to his surprise, had come out on top.  
  
“Well, bugger,” said Anders. “That’s shown me then, hasn’t it?” But he didn’t seem especially annoyed at losing, despite his earlier competitiveness and mouthing off. He did, however, eye Stephen somewhat nervously, no doubt expecting some extreme form of revenge in retaliation for Stephen’s previous forfeit.  
  
Stephen thought about dropping the whole thing. His cock was still insistently pushing against the fly of his jeans, and he really needed to deal with it. But as he licked his lips and caught the faint remnants of Anders’ taste on his tongue, an idea started to form in his head. He gave pretty good blowjobs, if he said so himself, but there were also some other things that he could show the soldier he was good at.  
  
“Stand over there,” Stephen said, pointing towards the half-height partition that separated the shooters’ booths from the rest of the shooting range, “and lean forwards on to the partition.”  
  
Anders eyed him for a couple more seconds, and then shrugged and did as he was told, facing out across the range as he placed his hands on the top of the partition, leaning some of his weight on to it.  
  
Stephen walked up behind him, admired the view for a moment, and then reached round and undid the front of Anders’ BDUs again. He thought he felt Anders tense slightly, but the lieutenant didn’t say anything as Stephen pulled the trousers, and the boxers underneath, down as far as his knees.  
  
“Spread your legs a little,” Stephen instructed, and after another brief hesitation Anders complied. He couldn’t spread them very far, hobbled as he was by his clothing, but it was far enough.  
  
“Gonna fuck me, Hart?” Anders asked suddenly, in a low voice. He sounded faintly apprehensive, and Stephen was momentarily taken aback.  
  
“No,” he said, after a short silence. “No, I’m not.” Then he smiled a little, although Anders couldn’t see it. “Not in the way you think, anyway.”  
  
“Oh.” Anders relaxed noticeably, and Stephen suddenly realised how much of the soldier’s bravado was just that.  
  
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” he said.  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Anders agreed. “Can’t seem to help it, most of the time.” He paused briefly. “So what exactly is this forfeit anyway, Hart?” he continued, with a certain amount of forced casualness in his voice. “Because so far it doesn’t seem too difficult.”  
  
“You’re forfeit is to stand there and take it,” Stephen told him.  
  
“But I thought you said…”  
  
“Shut up now,” Stephen said, and for a wonder, Anders did.  
  
Stephen grinned, and then for the second time that afternoon went down on his knees. “Nice arse,” he commented.  
  
“Thanks,” Anders replied. “I think so.”  
  
Rolling his eyes a little at the soldier’s cocky tone, Stephen brought his hands up and caressed the pale skin of Anders’ buttocks. “Nice,” he muttered again. Then he spread the cheeks, exposing the puckered hole.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“You’ll see,” Stephen said, and leaned forward and licked a stripe all the way along the cleft of Anders’ arse.  
  
“Fucking hell, Hart!”  
  
Stephen didn’t bother replying, instead repeating the action, this time letting his tongue return to the sensitive skin around Anders’ entrance, teasing it lightly.  
  
“Hart…” Anders didn’t sound quite sure about what was happening to him, but when Stephen pushed just the trip of his tongue inside, the soldier’s question died before he’d really asked it. He appeared to have decided that moaning was more important.  
  
If he could have, Stephen would have smiled to himself. Anders might talk tough, acting the big mean soldier and trying to rule the roost, but it seemed there were some things that the lowly civilians had to teach him after all.  
  
Stephen applied himself to driving the other man out of his mind, alternately licking his way along the sensitive between Anders’ buttocks, and driving his tongue past the puckered ring of muscle, fucking him open.  
  
Anders’ moans had been joined by a series of strangled gasps, and when Stephen forced one hand between his legs to cup his balls and roll them gently in his palm, a few choice curses were thrown into the mix too. Stephen moved his hand a bit higher, and was gratified to discover that Anders was already hard again. He couldn’t see what he was doing, so his movements were clumsy, but he managed to wrap his fingers around the shaft and stroked Anders’ cock jerkily.  
  
The soldier didn’t seem to know whether to push back or forward, his hips twitching restlessly first one way, and then the other. But from his vantage point, Stephen could feel the tense tremble in Anders’ thighs that indicated he might be nearing orgasm. And he was proved right when, half a minute later, Anders swore loudly, and warm fluid suddenly covered Stephen’s hand.  
  
Stephen continued to lap at Anders’ hole for a moment or two longer, until with a groan Anders forced himself to pull away.  
  
“Enough, Hart. Jesus…”  
  
Stephen wanted to smirk, but he was too busy fumbling at the fastening of his jeans, finally, _finally_ releasing his still hard cock. He sighed in relief as he took himself in hand, setting up a fast and furious rhythm that had him climaxing in less than a minute, come splattering on the floor, and on the back of Anders’ BDUs where they were still crumpled around his lower legs.  
  
“Fuck, yes…” Stephen sagged as the aftermath of an intense orgasm left him feeling shaky and a little light-headed. He stayed like that until the rustle of cloth alerted him that Anders was pulling his trousers back up.  
  
“Oh, nice.” Anders sounded slightly disgusted at what was now coating his trousers, but amused as well, and Stephen smiled.  
  
“Sorry,” he offered.  
  
“I’ve been coated in worse, believe me,” Anders replied.  
  
Summoning some energy from somewhere, Stephen tucked himself back into his jeans and clambered stiffly to his feet.  
  
“So, I guess this means you win, then,” Anders continued. He quirked a grin. “Like I said, not bad. For a civilian.” But this time the words had no sting to them, and Stephen shrugged.  
  
“Thanks. But you know what?” He grinned mischievously. “I think we’re both winners here.”


End file.
